


Leave A Light On

by iihappydaysii



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Depression Recovery, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Sexual Content, M/M, Mental Health Issues, married dan and phil, positive and hopeful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:19:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iihappydaysii/pseuds/iihappydaysii
Summary: Dan told people he cared about that he wanted to get better.





	Leave A Light On

**Author's Note:**

> Week 7 WaveyDaysFICS: Mental Health
> 
> Go check out waveydnp's fic on the same topic!

Dan yawned and leaned back in the stiff waiting room chair. Phil was sat beside him, his phone poised between his hands, his thumbs pressing at an array of colorful dots. He wasn’t quite sure what this new app Phil had downloaded was. It was hard to keep track. Dan probably couldn’t count the number of apps Phil had gone through in past three years sitting in uncomfortable chairs like this one.

Dan leaned over and asked, “You winning?”

“If you grade on a curve.” Phil gave Dan a small smile.

At first, Phil had come with Dan to the therapists office because Dan was skipping out on his meetings, and Dan had asked Phil to be there, to hold him accountable. Now, Dan didn’t need Phil there, strictly speaking, but it had just developed into a habit. Phil didn’t always tag along, but he often did, and afterwards they’d go and get coffee and sip it between quiet whispers near the biggest window they could find.

The receptionist called Dan’s name and told him his therapist was ready for him to come back.

“Have a good meeting,” Phil said softly as Dan stood.

“Thanks.” Dan walked through the door into Richard’s office.

Richard. was sat in a large arm chair directly across from a similar chair. He had a bushy mustache, a square head and rough hands. 

Dan walked over and plopped down in the chair. “Fuck man, I’ve had a week.”

Richard raised a bushy eyebrow. “We’re jumping right in, I see.”

“With both feet because you will not believe.” Dan took a deep breath. “I’ve got two words for you, Rich—toxic mold.”

Richard’s eyes widened. “Not the house you boys had under contract?”

“Yup.”

“You already gave up your lease, didn’t you?”

Dan nodded. “Like fucking geniuses.”

“Can you get back in?”

Dan shook his head. “Nope. Our landlord already signed a lease with a new tenant. One week from now and ya boys are officially homeless.”

“Dan, that’s rough situation, No way around it, but do you think you might be—”

“Catastrophizing? You bet your ass, which led to…well you know what it led to. For like…it was like several days down a classic Howell black hole of bullshit.”

After a pause, Richard asked, “But you found your way back out?”

Dan let out a sigh and leaned back in the chair. His lips turned up into a small smile. “I had some help.”

“Good.” His therapist smiled. “That’s the way to do it.”

After his appointment, Dan walked back into the waiting room to find Phil engrossed in his app game. He didn’t even notice Dan until he came up and kicked his shoe.

Phil jumped and let out a little squeak.

“Come on, rat,” Dan said, smiling. “Time to caffeinate me.” 

. . .

Dan wasn’t asleep. He wasn’t really awake either. For several days, he’d just been lying here, somewhere in the middle. The only thing he’d managed to eat was some microwave popcorn and one cold slice of pizza just to stop Phil from pestering him. Eventually, Dan would come out the other side of this, but for now, it was just like anti-gravity floating through the vast nothingness of his own consciousness…or something like that.

Without warning, the side of his head was assaulted by an icy stream of water.

“What the—what the fucking fuck?” Dan frantically moved his arms to cover his head from the jolting, cold spray.  “ _Jesus._ ”

The water stopped.

“Adrian, actually, but you’re not the first to confuse me with a deity.” His brother’s voice filtered through the bleary haze of Dan’s thoughts.

“What the hell are you doing in my bedroom?” His hair dripping, Dan sat up in bed and blinked his tired eyes as his brother and the giant purple water gun came into focus. “What is that?”

“A super soaker.” Adrian took a few steps over to Dan’s bedside table. He picked up the empty glass sitting there and filled it up with a long blast of water from the gun.

Adrian held the glass out to Dan. “Hydrate, bitch.”

Dan just glared at him. “You know, legally, this _is_ trespassing. I could have you arrested.” 

“Just shut up and drink.” Adrian shook the glass in Dan’s face, but Dan didn’t reach out for it. Adrian looked down at the glass and cringed. “This isn’t your sex cup, is it?”

“I know I haven’t had sex with woman in like the better part of a decade, but if there are cups involved it’s really changed a lot,” Dan said, dead-pan.

Adrian just rolled his eyes at Dan. _Little-fucking-brothers._

Grumpy but slowly, _petulantly_ , coming around, Dan grabbed the cup and took a long drink. The water tasted kind of plastic-y but he definitely needed it. “So why are you in my house?”

“Put some pants on.” Adrian grabbed Dan’s joggers off the floor and threw them at Dan’s head. “We’re going for a walk.”

Dan snorted. “Over my dead body.”

Adrian pointed the super soaker at Dan. “You can die all you want, bro, but I’ll just resurrect you and force your reanimated corpse to go on this walk with me.”

“ _Phil,”_ Dan feigned shouting for help as he reluctantly got out of bed at water gun point.

“He’s not going to save you,” Adrian said. “He was the one who called me.”

“Tell him I want a divorce.” Dan grumbled as he pulled on an old t-shirt. 

As Adrian made his way into the hallway so Dan could get dressed Dan heard his muffled voice call out, “Phil, Dan says he wants a divorce.” 

Once he dressed, Dan walked out of the bedroom.

Adrian was waiting for him, holding that purple super soaker across his shoulders. He grinned. “Phil says ‘too bad, mate.’”

. . . 

Dan yawned and breathed in the scent of lavender. “Is this silly?”

Phil reached around Dan and scooped up a few of the pinkish bubbles from the bath and put them on Dan’s nose. “What?”

Dan wiped the bubbles away, then adjusted his position so he was leaning back more comfortably against Phil. “Oh I don’t know. Sitting in a thirty dollar bubble bath, surrounded by candles, drinking herbal tea and listening to Michael Buble at five o clock on a Wednesday.”

Phil rubbed Dan’s scalp, tugging on his curls. “It’s only Tuesday, babe.”

Dan groaned. “Fuck my life.”

“And this is why we’re in the bath listening to the dulcet tones of Mr. Michael Buble.”

Phil kissed under Dan’s ear, his breath tickling down Dan’s neck as Phil quietly sang a few of the lyrics in his low voice.

Dan just sighed softly and shut his eyes, pressing cheek to Phil’s chest and ghosting a kiss across his skin. Phil skimmed his hands down Dan’s bare arms, leaving shivers in his  wake. Dan tried to scoot back, get his mouth closer to Phil’s mouth, and he slipped a little. Phil steadied him out and lifted Dan’s face toward his with wet, pruned fingers on his chin.

Phil skidded a thumb across Dan’s bottom lip, which made Dan’s mouth fall open a little.

They stole a moment just to look at each other in the dim, flickering candlelight. Then, unable to hold back any longer, Dan closed the distance between them. Phil’s lips gave softly beneath his own as he sighed gently against Dan’s mouth. Dan slid his hands up and over Phil’s shoulders. He brought them to rest at the back of Phil’s neck and let his fingers tease at the soft dark hair.

Phil’s hand was on Dan’s thigh, but it wasn’t sliding up. He was just using his fingers to draw hearts on the bare, submerged skin. 

When Dan caught his mind wandering to other, far-off places, he grounded himself with the feeling of Phil’s mouth and hands, with the now-cool water and the beating of his own heart.

He heard Phil’s teeth chatter.

“You cold?” Dan asked.

“Just a little.”

“Me too,” Dan said. “Ready to get out?”

Phil nodded. They worked their way out of the bath and dried themselves off with fluffy towels. Dan drained the water as Phil blew out all the candles he lit. Dan leaned against the bathroom wall and yawned.

“Let’s go to bed,” Phil said.

Dan gave him a surprised look. “It’s six the evening?”

“And you haven’t slept well the past couple of days so now it’s time to make up for it.”

Dan rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

They both walked back into their bedroom and pulled on pants. Dan was surprised when Phil climbed into bed with him.

“You don’t have to go to bed right now just because I am,” Dan said.

“But I want to lie here and watch you sleep.”

Dan scooted in a little closer to Phil and whispered, “Perv.”

Phil laughed a soft laugh. “Just shut up and go to sleep.”

 

. . .

 

Dan was feeling particularly stuck that day, like the world was a little thicker, like he was pushing through some kind of ooze. All his daily tasks were made just that much harder by it, which made him not want to do anything at all.

Phil was holed away, filming and then later editing a video for his channel, which left Dan slumped alone in their bed, slowly falling down an infinite tumblr hole like a character out of a Lewis Carroll novel. 

Dan was staring crosseyed at a meme when his phone buzzed. He grabbed it from where it was nestled in the sheets and looked at the screen. It was a text message from Martyn.

_Did Phil get that stuff I sent over?_

**What stuff?**

_Just some financial docs. I texted him but he didn’t reply._

**Dunno. He’s filming.**

_Oh okay._

Dan sighed and sat his phone back down he was about to dive back into the rabbit hole when his phone buzzed. It was Martyn again.

_How are you?_

He considered lying and saying he was fine, but he was trying to be better about that, about pushing people away. He sucked it up and responded with the truth.

**Meh. One of those days. What are you up to?**

_Sorry, mate. Just playing Zelda. Anything I can do to help?_

Again, Dan considered just saying that he was good, even if he knew he wasn’t. But he’d learned that if he didn’t push through the ooze, it just thickened. 

**Can I come to yours, sit on your couch and watch you play Zelda all day?**

_Sure thing, famalam._

**Famalam?**

_Just trying something out. How’d it feel?_

**Terrifying.**

_Noted. Now get your ass over here. Corn is making pizza._

 

To the untrained eye, it would seem that Dan lying on his brother-in-law’s couch eating pizza wasn’t any different to a bedroom-confined tumblr spiral. But, to Dan, it was. He’d been to Martyn and Cornelia’s apartment of course, but not often enough for its novelty to wear off. Here, his surroundings were different enough that he noticed them and, for Dan, that was really important.

He had his back against a purple beaded pillow and the air smelled like the garlic and basil Cornelia had used in the pizza. There was a light flickering down the hall and the neighbors’ argument was muffled through the wall, but still audible. This place had just the extra bit of real he needed right then.

Cornelia came in from the kitchen and crashed on the sofa besides Dan. “How’d you like the pizza?” she asked. “It’s a new recipe.”

“Beats the shitty frozen ones,” Dan said.

“Oh boy, do you know how to compliment a lady.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

Cornelia gently elbowed Dan. “I know.”

After a moment, he said, “Thanks for having me over.”

“You’re welcome whenever, but don’t expect gourmet pizza every time.”

Dan cast her a look over his shoulder. “Well then, what’s even the point?”

“The genuine pleasure of my company?”

“Eh.” Dan shrugged. “I’m mostly here for the food.”

She flicked his arm. “Intolerable, he is.”

“I just meant, you know, generally, in _life._ ”

“Can you two keep it down?” Martyn said. “Zelda requires concentration.”

Cornelia chuckled fondly, then looked over at Dan. She softened her voice. “Can I get you another glass of water?”

Dan’s instinct was to turn down the drink, but he’d learned that his instincts weren’t always to be trusted, sometimes, for some reason, they were self-destructive. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said. “Thanks, Corn.”

She patted his leg and stood back up from the sofa. “No problem.”

. . .

 

“Who was at the door?” Dan called from the lounge. “Did you order food?”

“No. Sorry.” Phil strode into the room with his arms wrapped around a cardboard box. “Your gran sent you a package.”

Dan got a small smile on his face as Phil passed him the box. Yawning, Phil plopped down on the sofa beside him and kicked his feet onto the furry grey footstool. He turned on the television. 

Dan tugged the box open with one strong pull and then dug out the thin layer of crumpled tissue paper. Beneath the paper, Dan found a tin of his favorite homemade peanut butter cookies, a new coffee mug, a journal and a pen, a black candle that smelled a little like burnt wood and red wine and a book of poetry.

He’d mentioned he’d been into reading poetry the last time he’d spoken to his gran, and, apparently, she’d paid attention. She had been the first person in his life who’d paid attention. Phil had been the second. 

Dan settled the book of poetry back in the box and then sat the box on the ground. He leaned over and gave Phil a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m going to go call Gran and thank her for this,” he said. “Don’t eat all my cookies while I’m gone.”

“Oh alright.” Phil grinned. “I promise to save you one.”

Dan rolled his eyes and walked to their bedroom. He sat down on their bed, pulled some pillows behind his back for support and called up his gran. She finally answered after the fifth ring.

“Hello.”

“Hey Gran,” he said.

“Oh hi, bear. How are you?”

“I’m pretty good. Just got your package and wanted to call and say thank you.”

“You’re welcome, but you didn’t have to call me just for that. Not that I mind hearing from my favorite person.”

Dan smiled. “And you don’t have to send me care packages, but I’m really glad you do. Even though I’m pretty sure Phil’s going to eat all those cookies by the time I get to them.”

Gran laughed. “I’ll make sure to bake an extra batch just for him next time.”

“He’d love that.”

“So tell me what’s been going on with you? Don’t leave out any details—well, leave out _some_ details—you _are_ a young, sexually-active married—“

“ _Gran._ ”

“I’m just saying you’re still my grandson and there are some things a grandmum doesn’t need to know about.”

“I’ll try to resist telling you the details of my sex life,” Dan said. “Just saying the words sex-life to you nearly killed me.”

“Nearly killed _you?_ What about me? I’m an old woman, and with the amount of butter I eat, my heart’s more like a ticking time bomb.” Gran chuckled again. She was always laughing. Dan had spent a good portion of his life wondering why genetics hadn’t blessed him with her disposition.

“Oi,” Dan said. “Come on. You’ll probably outlive me.”

Her voice grew serious. “I better bloody well not.”

Dan looked down a his legs and changed the subject. “So Phil and I are working on this board game.”

“Really now?” she said, and she sounded truly interested. He loved her for it. He’d been loving her for that his whole life. 

They talked for about another half-hour before their conversation began to wind down.

“Thanks again, Gran. For the package. For all of them. For everything, really.”

“You’re welcome. You mean the world to me, and watching you struggle for all those years…I’m just so glad to see you getting better, to see the smile I used to see when you were a little boy dancing to Spice Girls in my high heels.”

_“Gran.”_

“Oh, don’t Gran me. I’m serious.” She let out a sigh. “I know you don’t believe, but as a frail, elderly woman there isn’t much I can do besides send you cookies and pray for you…and I do. Every night.”

His Gran was right. The only thing Dan believed in was the inevitability of death and Phil Lester. But he knew, for his grandmum, prayer was the ultimate act of concern.

“I know…maybe you could send up a little one for Phil too, just in case? I mean, the poor guy has to put up with me, after all.”

“I always do,” she said. “Love you.”

He smiled softly. “Love you too, Gran.”

 

. . .

 

Dan hadn’t felt this bad in a _really_ long time—and he wasn’t exactly sure if he could pinpoint when it started, but actually he was pretty sure he could pinpoint when exactly it damn started. With a fucking nappies commercial.

  Or maybe not. Maybe he was just already primed for it, bogged down by a week of stress and not doing all the things he needed to keep his head above the rising water.

The commercial had come on and Phil had made some comment. Dan couldn’t even remember the phrasing now, but it all boiled down to Phil mentioning, in a one way or another, the kids they’d have some day. Something about _three_ of them. _Three._ Okay, so maybe Dan did remember at least some of the phrasing.

It was a comment Dan should have just let slide. His therapist always told him he needed to wait until he was in the right frame of mind—focused and calm—to have big conversations, especially with Phil. But he just hadn’t been thinking. He’d been stressed and short-fused, overwhelmed by the week, and the number three was less like a number and more like a three ton elephant dropped into the center of their flat. 

“Kids? Are you kidding? We can barely manage ourselves,” Dan had scoffed.

Phil had given him a concerned look. “You want to have kids.”

He hadn’t phrased it like a question. He phrased it like a statement—which, to be fair, Dan had said on multiple occasions, pretty recently as a matter of fact. But at the time, those considerations failed to temper Dan’s reaction.

“Do I?” Dan had said, a bit too coldly now that he recalled it. 

“Yes?” That time, Phil’s reply had sounded like a question. “You’ve said…we’ve talked about it. Many times, Dan.”

Dan had rubbed his face. “So it’s set in stone then, is it?”

“No, I didn’t say that.” There was an edge to Phil’s voice. He huffed. “I was just making a comment about a nappies commercial. Jesus, I didn’t mean for it to be such a big deal.”

Dan had shot to his feet and walked out of the room. It pissed Dan off when Phil cursed at him. It seemed like hypocrisy, but it wasn’t. Dan’s cursing didn’t mean anything. He did it all the time and it had no teeth. Phil only cursed when he was angry or horny. This was definitely not the latter and Phil had no right to be angry at Dan. 

Well, this had been the thought in Dan’s head when he’d slunk off to his room, shoved headphones in his ears and blasted Kanye, in part because he knew Phil didn’t like Kanye. Normal Dan wouldn’t so much like Petty Dan either, but Petty Dan didn’t give a fuck. That would, eventually, be Normal Dan’s problem.

And here he was again—Normal Dan—resurfacing in the middle of train car in the London Underground. It had been awhile since he’d fucking done this shit. Just up and left without his phone, without telling Phil first. 

All this…because of a nappies commercial and an argument about having kids that wasn’t even an actual argument because Dan did want to have kids eventually. And, yeah, they’d even talked about three because that was the sitcom number to have. You have the older jock sibling who isn’t very bright, the angsty, sarcastic middle child and the youngest—the troublemaking, class clown. Phil hadn’t just pulled the number three out of his ass to topple Dan’s figurative tower of stresses and responsibilities. He’d said it because Dan had said it first and Dan was an ass and what the hell train was he even on?

“Fuck,” he said aloud, and the only other person on the train was an old lady with a giant purse who shot him a glare.

“Uh, sorry,” Dan muttered.

Once he finally figured out where he was, he took the three trains to get back to their house. 

It was nearly three am and he could still see a light on through the window. The last time Dan had walked out like this, he’d come back to a dark apartment, tripped and twisted his ankle. He remembered sitting on the floor, rubbing where it throbbed and hissing in pain.

Phil had hurried up to him. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, shit. Just leave a fucking light on next time.”

Phil had helped Dan up. “Leave a note next time,” he’d whispered.

It was more than six months later and was Dan unlocking the door front door and stepping into a flood of light. 

Every overhead light had been left on, and every lamp they had turned to its highest setting. He’d even flipped on and laid out the flashlights from their emergency kit. He let out a gentle breath, the smallest smile curling onto his lips.

A pale yellow sticky note was still attached to the kitchen counter. It was covered in Dan’s own hand writing:

_Leave a light on :(_

Another sticky note had been added right underneath it. This one was scrawled with Phil’s familiar penmanship:

_Okay <3_

 

_. . ._

 

“So, babe,” Phil said as he crashed down on the sofa beside Dan. “What do you want to do for your birthday?”

Dan looked up from his laptop screen to glance over at Phil. “Nothing. _This._ Just order me some take away.”

Phil frowned at him. “No, Dan.”

“You know how I feel about my birthday.”

Phil nudged him. “But it’s the big two six.”

“It’s not the big anything. Twenty-six is like a throw away year.”

Phil hesitated for a moment. “Is that how you’re feeling about this year? That it’s going to be a throwaway?”

Dan sighed and shut his laptop. He set it to the side. “Yeah, but I’m also aware that my feelings have a tendency to lie to me, the bastards.”

That coaxed a small smile out of Phil. “What if we invite friends over here?”

Dan put a hand to his chest. “In my _house?_ Where I _live_?”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just think about it.”

“I will,” Dan said, though at that moment, he didn’t really mean it.

A few days later, Dan got a text message from Byrony.

_so what are we doing for your birthday?_

**nothing, mate.**

_bullshit, mate._

**you know birthdays are a holiday invented by greeting card companies to sell greeting cards.**

_i’m pretty sure the evolutionary transition from asexual to sexual reproduction created birthdays._

**i’d fact-check you but i’d have to have a significant fuck in my pocket and oopsie daisy looky there empty pockets**

_i’m not going to beg you to go out to dinner. i have my self respect, you know, but phil and wirrow and i are going to be overlooking the gorgeous view at a skybar on June eleventh in the year of our Lord 2017 whether you’re there or not_

**did you know sexual reproduction first appeared by 1.2 billion years ago in the Proterozoic Eon?**

_that better mean yes, you dick_

**The maintenance of sexual reproduction in a highly competitive world has long been one of the major mysteries of biology given that asexual reproduction can reproduce much more quicklY becausE 50% of offspring from Sexual reproduction are males, unable to produce offspring themselves.**

_why are you like this?_

 

And Dan did go to the Skybar on his birthday. He was reluctant and complained about it until he was sat at table with his husband and his two best friends. The food was good and the view was beautiful—a setting sun over the sharp grey lines of urban architecture—and he was suddenly, enormously grateful for the pills and the therapy and the people that helped him repaint some of the color and light back into his life. 

 

. . . 

 

With Vidcon coming, Dan had been thinking a lot about this. He’d gone back and forth on what he wanted to do and wasn’t sure yet. Eventually, he brought it up to Phil as he normally did when he was uncertain about something.

“I was thinking about, you know, when we’re at Vidcon. Maybe talking to John a bit.”

“John Green?” Phil raised an eyebrow. “About what?”

Dan shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know.”

After a moment, Phil light-heartedly said, “Is this about your crush?”

Dan groaned. “A man has one dream.”

“One _wet_ dream,” Phil mumbled.

Dan blushed and gave Phil a gentle shove. 

“It wasn’t a…I’m never telling you anything ever again.” Dan sighed. “I actually wanted to talk to him about like…what it’s been like for him, you know, to talk about…because I think I might want to…tell people what I’ve been going through. I think it could help and I want to kind of pick his brain about it.”

Phil gave Dan a warm look. “I’m sure he’d be happy to talk about it with you. You should email him. But remember,” he pointed a finger at Dan, “behave yourself. He’s a married man.”

Dan flipped Phil off, but Phil just laughed, which made Dan smile. 

Later that night, Dan shot John a quick e-mail about maybe getting a coffee during vidcon if he had time and was open to talking about “The Thing”. John had gotten back to him about it the next day and it was a really, nice smart e-mail and he said he’d be more than happy to get coffee and Dan was smiling a little and dear God Phil would never let him live this shit down. 

 

Things had gotten so hectic at Vidcon with the late flight that Dan had almost forgotten that he’d asked John to have a coffee with him. 

Dan was standing in one of the hallways when he felt a hand land on his shoulder.  Dan jumped a little in surprise. He was looking right at Phil so it couldn’t be Phil. Dan turned to see who it was. Had he realized it was John earlier, he probably would have jumped a little bit more.

“Were we still on for that coffee?” John asked easily.

“Yeah.” Dan nodded, standing straighter. “If you are.”

“Absolutely. How about tonight?”

Dan nodded again. Was that too much nodding? Like excessive nodding? 

John clapped Dan on the shoulder again before heading off down the hallway. 

Phil just snickered and Dan hissed at him to shut up.

 

That night, John met Dan at the closest Starbucks from the convention center and they found a small cafe table in a tucked away corner. 

“So,” John asked, “what did you want to ask?”

“I guess, I’m not sure where to start. I mean…how did people react? When you started talking about it?”

“Fine, mostly. People are supportive for the most part and, more than that, you see how many people relate to what you’re saying. It can be a little overwhelming. To share something so personal.”

Dan rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Me and Phil, I mean, we don’t share a lot of personal information so it’s kind of a tough decision.”

John gave him a soft look and took a sip of his coffee. “You don’t owe your audience your story. It’s yours and you can share as much and as little of it as you want.”

“I think I want to share this. It feels…right. Like it could be good for me and maybe other people.” Dan sighed. “I just don’t want people to define me by it, you know?”

John pushed up on his glasses, his brow drawn together like he was thinking. “One thing I’ve learned over the years is that people are going to define you one way or another. It’s an unfortunate side effect of this thing that we do.”

He wasn’t wrong. Dan had been defined many different ways over the years and maybe that had been part of the problem—he’d never been comfortable with definition of any kind. 

“Yeah.” He sighed. “It’s just…this thing is _my_ thing, but it’s also affected so many other people in my life. Phil, in particular. In a way, it feels like I’m telling a part of his story in a way too, by telling my story. I don’t know.”

“Is he…receptive to what you want to do?”

Dan nodded. “He is, but you know, he’s still a bit nervous. Even if he won’t say it, I know that he is. He’s still a really private person.”

“When I first started YouTube, Sarah didn’t want anything to do with it. She wouldn’t even come on camera. Figuring all these lines out can be complicated, but those lines can be erased and redrawn whenever we need them to be.”

He’d never explicitly told John that he and Phil were a couple and he wasn’t one hundred percent certain John did know, but he was smart and discerning and statements like this, comparing his wife to Phil, made Dan pretty sure he did. 

“Yeah.” Dan laughed quietly. “You’re telling me, mate.”

“Talking about mental health can be a tough thing even when you don’t have a large audience to bear witness. So when you do…”

“Yeah.”

“But it’s easier when you have good people who have your back.”

Dan took a sip of his coffee. “That’s for fucking sure.”

 

. . .

 

“Extend your spine, Dan,” Phil said, leaning on the wall across the room. He looked relaxed and happy as he happily sipped his ribena, not doing some aerobics routine Dan had found by typing aerobics routine into the YouTube search bar. 

“Fuck off,” Dan said.

Phil tilted his head slightly as Dan adjusted in a way that—strictly speaking—wasn’t the next move in the routine but did sort of raise his ass in Phil’s direction.

“Why would I do that?” Phil took a sip of the ribena as he eyed Dan. “My favorite show is on.”

Dan tried to flip Phil off, but ended up face planting on his work out mat. “Ow.”

Phil laughed.

“Alright, Mr. Chuckles. Why don’t you come over here and try this?”

“Me?” Phil pointed at himself. “I can’t. You know what happens when I work out.”

Dan rolled onto his back, trying to catch his breath. “You vomit on hot gym trainers?”

“That is an unfair characterization of what happened.”

“If I can do this, you can.” Dan grinned. “Come over here and support me.”

Phil sat down his ribena. “You don’t want me to come over there and support you. You want me to come over there and…distract you.”

Smirking, Dan lifted his pelvis into the air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m doing my exercises, which is a medically prescribed treatment for my mental health.”

“Yeah, and what’s that particular exercise called?” Phil’s voice sounded a little darker, as he took a step closer to Dan.

Dan just kept thrusting into the air—which was actually straining his ab muscles quite a bit. “It’s called Downward Dan Hasn’t Topped In A While.”

“ _Dan_.”

“Oh come on, Phil.” Dan rolled over onto his forearms, like a plank, and started thrusting down towards the floor. “I know you’ve always had a thing for fit men.”

“Yeah. You’re a real Chris Hemsworth,” Phil said, obviously trying to sound non-plussed but Dan knew him too well for that.

“It counts as exercise if we keep our heart rates up.” Dan sat back on his thighs and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“That’s cheating,” Phil said breathily and slipped his hand down between his thighs, rubbing over his black shorts. 

Dan’s throat tightened as he stuck his legs out and arched his back. “What? It’s just hot in here.” 

“You need to work out. Like properly.”

“I know.” Dan glanced over his shoulder at Phil. “One time thing?”

After a moment, Phil growled, “Fuck.” He strode across the room and settled down on Dan’s lap. He wrapped his arms around Dan’s neck, and Dan leaned forward to bring their mouths together.

It was hot and tense and working out gave Dan all this extra energy. He used it to push back against Phil, lay him out on his back. Dan was hovering over him, thankful for the exercises that gave him the ability to hold himself up over Phil like this. 

Before long Dan had Phil naked beneath him, had him open and begging for it, and Dan couldn’t always give Phil everything he wanted or deserved but he could give him this.

“Dan, I need—”

“I’m right here.” Dan kissed Phil’s lips gently. “I’ve got you.”

He felt Phil give around him, give into him, and there would never be anything else like it in the whole goddamn world. 

Afterwards, nearly an hour later, they were laid there together on Dan’s exercise mat, Phil’s head on Dan’s chest as they tried to catch their breaths. 

Phil yawned. “Maybe I should try working out, if I can get that kind of stamina from it. I mean Jesus, Dan. Go easy on an old man.”

Dan raked his fingers through Phil’s hair. “You’re not a…oh nevermind.”

Phil sat up and squeaked. “Do I have another grey hair?”

Dan sat up too. “Another?”

“Shut up, Dan.” Phil covered his hair with his hands. 

Dan scooted forward and pulled Phil’s hands away from his hair. “Don’t hide it,” Dan whispered gruffly. “I’ve got no problem being married to a hot, _older_ man.”

“I hate you,” Phil said.

“No, you don’t,” Dan said, and it was pretty incredible to know that for certain, to not even think it was possible anymore, even on his worst days. That alone was worth every bit of work Dan had done over the last several years.

 . . .

Dan had been cleaning their flat for days. He’d put it off on Phil, like Phil was the one that was obsessing with how their new place looked for his mum and dad, but it was Dan. He’d been meticulously cleaning every inch of the house, he’d been at the store buying every type of tea and worrying about what he was going to wear. 

“You know it’s just my parents,” Phil had said while Dan was vacuuming the floor for a second time that day. “Not the Royal Family.”

“Are you really complaining about me cleaning?”

Phil had given him a strange look. “No…no I guess not.”

When their strange doorbell rang, Dan hopped to his feet. “I’ll get it.”

“Okay, weirdo…” Phil said, standing as well. 

Dan walked to the front door and opened it. Of course, it was the Lesters. The same two people he’d seen for eight years now, but it felt different to him right now. In a weird way, it felt like he was meeting them all over again.

“Hi, Dan.” Kath stepped forward to hug him. “How are you?”

“Good,” he said. “Really good. Happy birthday.”

She smiled at him, a warm, mum smile. “That’s wonderful to hear, dear. And thank you.”

“Hey, Mum,” Phil called out from somewhere behind Dan, and Kath stepped away from Dan to walk towards Phil.

“Hello again,” Nigel stuck out his hand. “Good to see you.”

Dan took Phil’s father’s hand, and tried to match the strength of his always powerful shake. “You too. Thanks for coming."

He nodded. “It’s a nice place you’ve got here. I really like the new neighborhood. Much greener.”

“Yeah,” Dan said. “We like it too.”

Dan never had the easiest time talking to Phil’s dad. He was one of the nicest men Dan had ever met, but Dan didn’t have a particular gift for small talk and Dan wasn’t sure Nigel knew there was any other kind. 

They all gathered in the living room and Phil and his mum started chatting and Dan did his best to follow what Nigel was saying about the fertilizer he’d bought for the lawn. Martyn and Cornelia showed up not much later, which took a little pressure off Dan, but he still felt like he wanted to show this place off—not in the ‘we’re millionaires’ way but in the I’ve got my shit together _finally_ sort of way. 

He got them all tea, remembered their orders perfectly, and everyone seemed to be relaxed and having a good time until Kath asked to go to the bathroom and Phil directed her to the one down the hall. She already walked there and closed the door when it suddenly hit Dan.

“Shit,” he said. “Sorry.”

“Dan, what is it?” 

Dan’s throat suddenly felt tight and he didn’t want to say it aloud in front of everyone so he walked over so only Phil could hear. “There’s no toilet roll in there.”

Phil snort-laughed. “Are you serious?”

“What?” Martyn asked.

“Mum’s got no toilet paper,” Phil said, a snicker in his voice.

Dan’s heart was beating hard enough he could feel it and he suddenly, ridiculously, felt like he was going to cry.

A few moments later, Kath returned from the bathroom. Everyone just stared at her and then burst into laughter. Everyone but Dan was just stunned silent. This was normally the kind of stuff he _would_ laugh at. 

“What?” Kath asked.

“Sorry about the toilet roll situation, Mum.”

“Oh.” She laughed. “No problem. That’s what tissues are for.”

For some reason, everyone else found that really funny too. Everyone was laughing, and Dan’s head was spinning and what the fuck was going on. He turned and bolted out of the room.

He was standing in the hall, trying to figure out his head when he heard footsteps.

“I’m fine, Phil. Just go back out there with your parents.”

“Not Phil, Love.” It was Kath. _Just great._

He tilted his head up because that helped keep the tears in. “God, this is embarrassing.”

“Oh, sweetie. You don’t have to be embarrassed in front of us. You’re family.”

“I know…it’s just…I don’t know what I’m doing.” Dan turned towards his mother-in-law. She was smiling softly at him. “I wanted…”

“What did you want?”

“It’s stupid.”

“It’s not stupid, if it’s what you want,” Kath said. Sometimes it was very clear who had raised Phil, how he’d turned out so well.

“I just wanted to show you and, and Nigel that I finally…I don’t know…finally had myself under control. That I finally deserved to be a part of his family.”

“Oh love, family isn’t something you deserve. It’s something you have.” Kath put a hand on his arm. “And we’re all so happy for the progress you’ve made, but we’re happy for you because you’re happier and safer, not for ourselves. We’ve always loved you. You don’t need to clean the house and serve tea and remember toilet rolls for that to be true.”

Dan dabbed away the remaining wetness around his eyes and Kath stepped forward to pull him into a hug. He lifted his arms and hugged her back.

“Thanks, Mum,” he whispered.

Kath pulled away gently and smiled as she ruffled his curls. “What’re mums for?” She linked her arm with his. “Now, take me to dinner. Your treat.”

Dan chuckled. God, he was so lucky. Not only to have Phil as his family, but all the other Lesters as well. They were good people and he was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he was good too.

. . .

 

Dan had been filming all day. And then the all day filming turned into all night filming. He just had to get it exactly right. He’d done the little skit portions with Phil, and Phil had offered to stay up with him, but Dan had sent him off to bed once Phil had started to look like a sleep-deprived zombie. 

But Dan was feeling good, energized. He was finally ready to tell this story that had been so many years in the making. Not that the story was over. Dan knew it didn’t work that way. This thing would always be a part of him, but it would never define him. It never had and he certainly wasn’t going to let it define him now. No, he was just going to tell his truth and hope it would mean something to others. Remind them that they’re not alone, and remind them that reaching out for help is hard, but it’s worth it. 

Finally, Dan felt like he’d said what he wanted to say. He’d have to edit it together later, but the footage was there. He believed in it. He was proud of it.

And he’d been up all night…he could see the early colors of morning sneaking in through the balcony window. He walked over and opened the sliding glass door. He stepped into the cool, morning air and stared up at the pale peach sky.

He leaned against the glass and slid down—tired—the good kind. Just to watch the sun rise. It wasn’t long before Dan heard footsteps and Phil was stepping out onto the balcony with him, holding two mugs of coffee.

Phil sat down beside Dan and handed him one of the mugs. 

“Thanks,” Dan said.

“You’re welcome.” Phil took a sip of his coffee. “You never came to bed.”

“I wanted to get it right.” Dan squeezed the mug in his hands, feeling the warmth on his skin.

“Did you?”

“You know what?” Dan leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder and looked out towards the sunrise. “I did.”

 


End file.
